


Pink Lemonade

by rafeadl3r (burgerkhal)



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Boarding School, Bullying, But he's friends with Nate and Sam, Child Neglect, Childhood Friends, Elementary School, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mafia AU, Other, Rafe Adler Lives, Rafe is a very sad sad boy, and then life happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29736822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burgerkhal/pseuds/rafeadl3r
Summary: There once was a boy who very much believed in true love, that is, until he grew into a cruel man. This is a story of transformation, but ultimately of redemption, for those who may seem evil at first sight, might just only be cursed beasts awaiting the kiss of another monster.Rafe lives a seemingly sheltered childhood, until he meets the Morgan boys.
Relationships: Rafe Adler/Samuel Drake
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Pink Lemonade

There once was a boy who very much believed in true love, that is, until he grew into a cruel man. This is a story of transformation, but ultimately of redemption, for those who may seem evil at first sight, might just only be cursed beasts awaiting the kiss of another monster.

There once was a small boy, as small as you once were when you still played pretend. Except he was born into royalty of the lineage Adler, and his royalty was more of the criminal side according to modern records. He was small, yes. But also extraordinarily gifted in cruelty. After all, criminal life begets criminal desires. Rafe was his name, shortened from Raphael, and he was trained skillfully in fencing, horse riding, archery, and even some gun-skills at the tender age of eight under the sweet sun of Tuscany. Who cared about karate and basketball when he could learn cards, domino and pick-pocketing?

Criminal lessons always came with a side of refinement, that was to be expected. Soon, piano lessons also became lessons on elegance, secrecy and the swiftness of knife-throwing. The little master was quite proficient in all areas, and in fact was also encouraged to get into trouble as often was he could. Parlance was also an art that he needed to control and manage. Taunting, faking, and sweet-talking his friends in a fight before his fists decided to act.

That is the story of how one day, little Rafe Adler came back from school with blood still trickling down from somewhere in his face. The story of how it happened was less exciting than its consequences, however, the actions rang deeply into time. Rafe had gotten into a discussion with the Morgan children (that was the name he gave at the time) because his classmate Nathan had refused to give back a pencil that he unrightfully borrowed. Turned out the pencil was actually Nathan's, but as an Adler, Rafe was forbidden to back out of an argument without gaining something in return. They agreed to fight by a park near school after the last bell rang, and crisp as the sound was released, all children escaped the infernal place called Saint Francis Boys’ Home.

Decidedly and with little rush, Rafe set his pencils and fine notebooks in a leather bag and set out for the appointed place without knowing what to expect. He kept thinking along the way, when a clack and stumble with his left foot made him look at the ground. A rock. Quite ordinary apart from the jagged edge that almost cut him where picking it up. He wasn't sure why he did it, but he would later think what to do. He walked one more block and as he approached, he saw through the underbrush, that not one, but two boys were waiting for him. Nathan Morgan has brought along his older brother Samuel.

Do I need to say more to tell how it turned out? Does curiosity kill the cat? Well, let's bring it back. The criminal princeling stood in front of the Morgan boys and wiped the sweat from his brow.  _ “So, this is the rich idiot harassing my baby brother.” _ The taunt was useless and Rafe limited himself to yawning, not that he was bored, but he rarely ever missed naps, a regular thing in his household so he could last through the evening and all his extracurricular activities. He would sleep for an hour and continue with piano, then a form of combat, he would do schoolwork after and had early dinner. But all that had to be delayed today. Sam stood in front of his brother, kicking some dirt playfully and chanting an old sea-shanty. Rafe recognized the tune, but ignored the veiled insult of the lyrics. Putting his hand in his pocket, Rafe felt the jagged stone again.

_ As I was walking down Paradise Street _

_ To me way-aye, blow the man down _

_ A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet _

_ Give me some time to blow the man down _

The tension grew slowly and quietly and the moment the cicadas started singing, Samuel threw himself on the smaller, younger child and threatened to throw a punch. The kid was pinned down yet smiled eerily. The sweat and the dirt had already stained both their faces, when Nathan started a low wail. Both of the fighters looked his way. Samuel was worried, Rafe thought it pathetic. No blows had been exchanged yet. The low cries persisted, and tears rolled down Nathan's face quickly as he begged Sam to stop. Rafe took advantage the moment Samuel got up, and threw his feet at him in a swift kick, making the older child… teenager, fall flat-down on his face. For someone so tough, he got distracted easily, Rafe thought to himself, and pulled out the stone from his pocket.

It didn't take a lot. The Morgan boy got a tiny scratch, and when he looked back at the Adler boy, he had gotten up, stone in hand, and to the surprise of both Nathan and Samuel, Rafe struck himself on the forehead with the jagged edge.

Silence, astonishment, yelling followed by the exclamation “What the hell is wrong with him? Let’s go NOW Nate,” and a patient response “Where are you going leaving me hurt like this...” The art of manipulation. That’s all he needed to do. The Morgan kids were already troublemakers of renown in the neighborhood. Rafe’s double-faced strategy was never to be discovered.

Nate now burst out crying, and Rafe refused to show any emotion in front of whom he considered lesser peers. Nathan’s crying was sure to attract the attention of a passerby, so Rafe walked up to both of them and kneeled, opened up his leather bag, and pulled a small hand-made satchel. He extracted the pencil and some coins and took Nate’s hand “For your troubles,” packed his things neatly and walked away in silence.

The blood hadn’t stopped and it was starting to trickle down his left eye, stinging more on his eyes than the cut. Huh, it hadn’t hurt until a friendly neighbor who was out watering his prized roses saw the boy, immediately rushing him to his house. He tried containing his tears until the last moment, but couldn't bear it any longer, and upon seeing the mansion garden his eyes itched stronger, not from blood, but tears.

He wasn't prone to showing emotions. In fact he was trained to be slick like a lone wolf cub. So why was it bothering him now? That is a long story for another moment, now we shall focus on the princeling and how terribly his mother screamed at his sight. Not at his damaged son, but at the ghastly state his white shirt (once white, now red) was in. How could he be so inconsiderate to her? Her reputation, her exhaustion. The voice kept ringing in his ears as he was quickly undressed by some servants, put in a tub of ice-cold water and left in silence after an even icier remark of “Hurry up, you’re already late for fencing.”

Someone was compassionate enough to let the faucet with warm water running, yet there was never anyone to gently lift him up from the tin and towel-dry him from head to toes. Sniffling while he scrubbed, Rafe limited himself to feeling how there was going to be a scar, and looking at the red swirl with the soapy water. He wondered how his mortal enemies were faring back home. And then he cried, maybe for the first time in years, and cried he did (at least in silence) as the heat evaporated from the water and a lingering resentment left his heart. Who was he angry at? He was vaguely certain it wasn’t because of the Morgans.

He slid out, again in silence, and quickly dried off, a heavy sigh unloading from the deepest part of his gut as he slipped fresh undergarments and a loose bathrobe. He still was a child, but at a distance, to any stranger, he could be confused for a very small adult. What a dear shame. Rafe seldom got to enjoy childhood like he should. He was wondered and bewildered for commonplace things other children saw as daily life. He was mocked for not knowing how to chew gum. Bullied for dressing properly. “Why don't you wear jeans like everyone else, dork?” Made fun of for being extraordinary when he so desperately wanted to be common, one of the many and eventually blending into nothing.

Rafe left the tub and bathroom a little relieved, but with doubts about love and caring that no child should have. He walked down the stairs and noticed the particular smell emanating from the room next to his own. It was fragrant mixed with some sour aroma. Someone laughed and told another person to stop. Luckily this time he didn’t recognize the voice, and treaded carefully until he reached the ample library room. Fencing went hand in hand with classical literature. Fighting with a sword was just as important as verbal combat. Yet his instructor was nowhere to be seen. He sat down quietly and after a few dull minutes, the man, Mister Alistair Donagall, jumped cheerily on place, as if the entire place was his stage.

“En garde, little Adler,” unceremoniously as always. Rafe took his usual position and proceeded to hit without warning. The savagery he would have shown at the Morgans was saved and in full display now. Donagall took it as playing and retaliated softly, until Rafe pulled back and struck him on the side after excercising a beautiful pirouette. “You're done Alistair.” His teacher paused for a few minutes then replied “Young man, you’re too wild today. Are you alright?”

And just then, Rafe couldn't hold it any longer, not keeping it private. He pulled of the mask his fencing gear required and sobbed. Loudly, openly, defeated. He started clearing the snot dripping from his nose with the left arm of his pristine uniform when confounded by his reaction, Mister Alistair jumped upstairs calling for Rafe’s mother, who was too busy or too uncaring, that after a turn (or ten) of the thinnest needle of the clock, she finally descended from her perch and demanded rather annoyed “What is it, Raphael?” The expression on the woman’s face estranged Rafe, and only further provoked his tears. Only then the mother by birth rushed to her cub and cradled him. How long ago was it since she held her own sib this way? Rafe hugged her in spite of the sickly, spoiled smell exhuming from her, and that seemed to calm him down.

It was decided that his afternoon lessons were to be postponed, because after the incident, Rafe developed a fever and stayed in bed, in comfort. It carried on for several days. He also didn't respond to calls or play, wouldn't even touch a meal unless supervised and told to finish his food. The boy stared melancholy at the outside world as summer had started to finally subside and was giving way to autumn. The Adler boy had already missed a week of school when he got a phone call. Who on Earth would call him would remain a mystery, and since Rafe was unable and unwilling to pick up, the mystery was kept. Mother Adler was sure that Rafe was being theatrical and sent the child back to school the next Monday.

He was never particularly surrounded by friends, but this time he was truly alone. His absence and the rumors spread without him being able to stop them, and soon he was alone, both in the schoolyard and at home. In classes he didn't care much for company or teamwork, as he excelled in most subjects set in front of him, and if the theme was unknown, he’d make additional effort until he was knowledgeable at least, and an expert at best. The schoolyard loneliness though, that hurt him. He didn't care before, and two or three tiny goons would follow him around and tag along asking for his after-lunch treats. Now? Nothing. So he started picking a lonely corner by the orchard, under a cherry tree, and ate… and also wept the loneliest tears. It became routine. The lunch bell rang at 1:00 PM, he’d pick up his paper bag out of his leather one, fill a glass of water, and walked along the edge of the orchard, sat down and ate his usual comfort foods: a grilled cheese sandwich, a seasonal fruit (this time it was strawberries), and a handful of candies. After finishing the main course, he would burst out in small sobs, start eating the candies and eventually calmed down in time to sit back at his desk, returning to an unfathomable expression.

Teachers knew Adler was not normal, but this was beyond comfortable. They would call the household to ask about unusual behavior, previous or recent, but no one would pick up or the message was relayed to the service and never to the reasonable person in charge of the child. Rafe Adler was by all accounts but legal, an orphan. He was left unattended for the rest of the autumn-winter period, and soon the teacher’s interest dwindled as well.

There once was a boy who wished to become invisible, and he achieved it through no small measure and loss of hope. There once was a boy who turned into a cold, heartless (or was it heartbroken?) monster. It was a lack of attention for certain, but mostly it was a couple of incidents in succession after his scuffle with the Morgans.

  * One: Mommy dearest was sleeping (or rather, fucking) his fencing teacher. He spied on them once. Unaware of what was happening, he curiously asked one of the service girls “why was Mommy naked with Alistair? It looks like he hurt her,” and it followed suit to an uncomfortable silence and no explanation at all.
  * Two: Rafe Adler was still deeply affected by the Morgans. He often caught Nathan looking back at him during class. He too had a sad face on, although Nathan’s eyes reeked of compassion. He disliked that stare. Pity was unbecoming on an Adler. He would rather be feared.
  * Three: His grades and performance were taking a deep plunge in school, much to the disappointment of his father. This was the only points of inflection he made upon Rafe nowadays, causing the child stress.
  * Four: He could no longer stand the smell of roses, so he scarcely could get across the neighbor’s front yard, or his mother’s room, without plucking his nose shut with his fingers. The nausea paralyzed him, so he ceased asking her for help. Another affection avenue closed.
  * Five and most important: He had started getting blackouts. No real reason behind them, according to school or his parents. He would simply stare at the sky or the ceiling, have a profound nosebleed and faint after a few seconds.



“Rafe, darling, what are we to do with you?” his mother would dance around the surface of their problem, and yet you could pin-point that she was probably one of the reasons his son grew cold and cruel in the course of his tenth autumn of life. Alistair was soon fired as Rafe’s instructor after one of the service peeped about the affair to the father, and subsequently, half of the household’s staff were solely replaced by order of the mother. Rafe grew even lonelier and also distrustful, as he no longer recognized the face surrounding him at home. Naturally he withdrew, trying to find solace in petty comforts.

He still practiced fencing, ever by his own self. Piano was of no difficulty and he kept playing, now without an instructor. The only forced extracurricular he kept was archery, at the request of his father, and horse riding at the behest of his mother. He found in the solitude of baths a dose of gratitude, hugging his knees and sitting for hours if his day allowed for it. At school it was no different, except he started to regain his grades and actively participated in class more often as winter grew on. The cold of the snow seemed to seep into him and breathed calm wherever he went. Rafe Adler grew into himself, albeit not entirely, as he continued to have fainting spells, less frequent, but present.

December came along and Rafe was almost back to his normal self. Though he still had lunch by himself (laying on a wool blanket as to not wet his clothing with the fresh now), Rafe had learned again the distinct pleasure of silence and loneliness. He was peacefully biting into an apricot pie with his eyes closed, when the soft steps of an approaching stranger stirred him. Then a shadow blocked the precious warmth of sunlight on his cheeks. Rafe slowly opened one eye to find not a single, but two Morgan boys staring down at him. Rafe briefly raised himself with the help of his elbows and blew out a single monosyllable:

“What?”

Amazingly, his coarseness didn't push the Morgan duo away, and quickly they sat down beside Rafe. A few minutes of awkward silence followed, but soon enough they started to engage in conversation. “First, we would like to apologize for the other day, back in summer,” started the older brother, Samuel. He touched on Rafe’s forehead, where the stone had left a mark just at the edge of his hairline, so it was well hidden. Miraculously, Rafe didn't recoil at the touch. Nathan was shy but put in a word, “Look Rafe, I got scared when I saw that things were getting serious, but you have to believe me, I never took that pencil you claimed to be yours.” Sam just nodded along and carefully observed Rafe’s expressions all the while. The Adler child kept silent. He really couldn't explain why he was now befriending the Morgans. But it felt good not to be alone while eating.

“You see,” retorted Sam, “we both did a little digging around, and one of your former minions had slipped Nate’s pencil into your bag. My little brother here is a forgetful dumbass, so he never got hold of what had happened until you let him borrow said pencil.” Rafe was plagued with questions but he only managed to ask simply: “How did you know it was yours, Nathan?” Simple enough, they said. Their mother, Cassandra, had taught them to take out the eraser and place a little marker on the bottom side, that way they could identify what was rightfully theirs. Plus Nathan was in the bad habit of biting his pencils once in a while, so… The rest was obvious to a Morgan, maybe not by the common observer.

“You know, I feel slightly insulted by what you’re saying, but also amazed. I guess what I’m saying in reality is, I apologize for what happened later,” said Rafe. He lowered his gaze and took out a bite of his pie, and remembered he was still joined by the Morgans. Flustered, he offered them some, but they were okay as they were and showed him a lollipop each. “Here, we brought your one as a peace offering too.” It was pale pink and tasted sour but sweet at the same time. “Our mom makes the caramel.”

And so recess passed along quickly, and soon they had to leave for their respective classrooms. Sam went ahead of them, since he had to change for gym class and both Nathan and Rafe had class together. He was pleasantly impressed by the Morgans and he felt quickly at ease with Sam. From that day onward, he ceased the cold and waged no more wars against himself. He felt sunshine roll inside fields of his mind where there once was thorns and barren soil, now crowned by sunflowers.

Conversations ranged from making fun of a new joke, and often Sam would be the one to break silences when Rafe was too quiet, too inside himself. Nathan would be the one to bring a board game, while Rafe would learn the rules and often taught them cheats they had never imagined. They helped each other, really. For as Rafe was flourishing again, the Morgan boys started to be less trouble, in reality less noticeable. The trio engulfed each other in light, and presto! Disappeared from the look of those that dismissed them easily for their pasts. The community around them was sheltering and unknowing around them as they could ever wish for, the winter wonderland a home for all their naughty tricks they had down their sleeves.

Spring flew by in quiet succession after February, and summer arrived with a swift blow of heat. The smolder of the streets was unbearable, and as soon as school was let out and vacations started, the Adler boy became the favored guest of Nate and Sam. All their youth they had kept to themselves, and now Cassandra had to deal with three little tricksters, one of which didn't even belong in the Morgan den at first. But he was very welcome. He was soft spoken and amicable to adults, a thing that mothers seem to love in their childrens’ friendships, and he also became such a frequent guest that he was the one to teach the kids some table manners. Aloof as Rafe was, he was in good company, almost one of the family.

At the zenith of summer, Cassandra held a small reunion for the threesome. It was on to be Rafe’s birthday, so she understood, and both Nathan and Samuel wanted to surprise him. At their insistence, Cassandra bought the ingredients for a cake on an early Saturday afternoon, and the kids went to pick up Rafe. The scorch of the sun made traversing gardens near the Adler estate a living hell. But Nathan was lightly touching the leaves of bushes and flowers poking out of fancy, tall gates. This part of town felt pulled out of a fairytale, and they wondered if Rafe was actually a prince in disguise. “He already has a little of the snotty attitude, he only needs a crown,” Sam snorted out and Nathan chuckled softly. They had learned to love and appreciate Rafe as one of their own. They ran together as a pack of wolves and would howl with the same ease. With joy, with sadness, just for the sake of it.

They silently approached the gates where Rafe lived and buzzed on the intercom. When the youngest of the three came out of the door, they were greeted afar by a woman they supposed was his mother. Not entirely true! Rafe had been hit with two surprises that day. On his birthday, nonetheless, he would be saying goodbye to his home and sent to a boarding school abroad, while the disaster that was the Adler marriage tried to patch itself up. The woman they had seen at the door was his paternal aunt, staying there before he left for another faraway place. The second surprise is that in the turmoil of fixing their problems, the Adlers had forgotten about their child’s special day.

He didn't cry, but he absentmindedly kept kicking at some stone and briefly retold the events at his home. Nathan tried prying more out of his friend, but Sam knew better and instead joked about how the rich boy would get the finest education out of the three, and that if not his parents, Cassandra Morgan would be proud of him. They walked along the trees that arched the way, shading the path with sinewy sighs of melancholy when the wind caressed them. In those moments Rafe needed the most to be touched and glanced at Sam. Nathan was walking enough places ahead of both not to notice the small exchange. He slowly led his hand to Sam in silence, and although it took the other by surprise, he did not back down, only let out a whisper “It's going to be fine,” and held Rafe’s hand for the better part of their journey to the Morgan home. Rafe thought the best part was that neither Nate or Sam questioned the fact that he badly needed to be held. Affection was freely bestowed, not held like golden treasure.

The pout on Rafe’s face was almost gone when they arrived at Avery Road #701, and absolutely vanished when Cassandra came out of the wooden door yelling the brightest “Happy birthday!” one could expect from a proper mother. And in a way she was that to Rafe. In those short months, Mrs. Morgan had given Rafe the care he so desperately craved for, and a family figure that was practically absent in his own home. But no matter! Cassandra waved her arms and swayed, waiting in an open embrace for all three. Rafe felt as Sam’s touch snapped away, not in abandonment, but an invitation to follow and welcome him into the fold. The four-sided hug was warm and they all smelled like sweat, and sunshine walking through the edge of the morning, when things meant the best of promises.

When they broke away, Rafe was in tears and wished to stay with the Morgans instead of going away. “Oh, my sweet boy. Don't worry! We’ll be here waiting each summer and winter break,” she said. Sam completed along with Nathan “Yes! You can celebrate your birthdays each year, and spend Christmas with us!” Rafe asked what Christmas was like then. It was in decorations everywhere, but he had never seen a tree set up at home, nor gotten gifts during those days. You see, Rafe Adler, besides being of a criminal family, was also a Jewish child, so all this was unfamiliar to him, and the showing off of gifts after winter break was so foreign to him. He was polite about others’ customs, but often wondered and questioned at home why he couldn't be like the rest. With the Morgans he  was like the rest, and welcomed in spite of differences and the past.

The first offer of the evening was baking a cake. Since they didn't know which was Rafe’s favorite flavor, they picked the basic three and made him choose on the spot. Much to the relief of Nate, Rafe was also an avid chocolate lover and he wouldn't have to skip on the treat (he was such a picky eater). While the oven did its magic, they all sat down and plated simple card games to pass the time. When the whiff started to be too appetizing , Cassandra took out the cake, and while it cooled down, she made a pitcher of lemonade infused with berries, so it glowed a pretty pink in the evening sun, filtering through the kitchen curtains. Sam was helping decorate the cake with a simple glaze and party sprinkles, when Nate asked Rafe quietly “Hey, will you miss us? I think Sam is going to miss you very much.” The breeze out of the garden blew Rafe’s answer out of Nate’s attention, and it remained forgotten until years later, for now was the time for chocolate cake and pink lemonade. The tart of the lemonade ripened the sweetness of the cake, making for an interesting combination, and soon they all felt bloated, taking a step outside to bask in the retiring sunlight and drinking more of the elixir.

“So,” Sam dared, “when are you officially leaving?” He was blunt, but like all painful things, the quickest way was the better remedy. It was uncertain which day exactly, but it was sure to be the first to second week of September. It was already August 30th. Cassandra noticed how the childrens’ spirits were sinking, so she offered another special treat: a quick trip to the movies.

Summer of 1985 spelled “The Goonies” as the success of the season. IT fed into the threesome’s love of piracy and adventure, mysterious adult figures with greedy hands and the ultimate triumph of truth and innocence. Popcorn was thrown at each other and there were laughs and yells. By the end of the movie, Nate was fast asleep and Rafe was stumbling. Cassandra held Nathan in her arms and Sam wrapped his hand around Rafe’s to lead him home. “I’ll be right back as soon as he’s home. Mom, I swear.” The troublemaker had to promise, but he too was exhausted and longed for bed. They parted ways at the cinema’s entrance and the road to the Adler estate was mostly quiet, except for the heir’s tired moans. Sam smiled softly and pulled on his hand, making Rafe hold on a bit tighter when he started to let go. Two little shadows they seemed, veiled by the trees and only revealed by the silent moonlight. Life was sparing them with a little happiness, because unknown to the duo, it would be a while before they saw each other next time. Life, the little bitch, would lead them down winding and intertwining paths, with a powerful blow being dealt on them both that night and in the following days.

So, for now, let's keep them close, like the warmth between their palms, and with the sweet tenderness they kept as friends. Sam pulled Rafe in a tight embrace. “You know, it's difficult to admit, but last summer I hated you so much, and I thought you'd get us into big trouble.” Rafe simply smiled. He remembered very little of the day and he insisted that “all was forgiven and forgotten.” They talked less and walked slow until they arrived at the neighbor’s house of the Adlers, where roses were kept in the open. The smell was intoxicating. “Hey Rafe, the way to your home is just a few steps away, right? I think I'll leave you here, I’m already sleepy. Write me a letter from some faraway kingdom.” They agreed and parted ways, only to see each other roughly four years after, when sam turned 18, and Rafe 15. Their twined fingers already yearning, as if knowing how long it would be.

It was sad, really. A wolf, a metaphorical one, hid amongst the roses, doing some nightly pruning. The too-friendly wolf swooped down on Rafe, who lost all consciousness, and was barely alive when delivered, or rather arriving home by sheer will of survival if anything else. Rafe Adler stopped talking altogether after his eleventh birthday, and so it remained until the prince was pricked awake by the familiar needle of a painful rose.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you for reading this. And second of all, I have no idea how long chapters are going to take me. Hopefully a bit less than my usuals.
> 
> Let me know if you spot any mistakes!
> 
> Please be kind and drop a word after it's done. I recently lost my job and could use a little encouragement.


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